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POEMS. 183
��XLV.
BEFORE the ice is in the pools, Before the skaters go, Or any cheek at nightfall Is tarnished by the snow,
Before the fields have finished, Before the Christmas tree,
Wonder upon wonder Will arrive to me !
What we touch the hems of
On a summer's day ; What is only walking
Just a bridge away ;
That which sings so, speaks so, When there 's no one here,
Will the frock I wept in Answer me to wear?
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